


Careful

by gayclubanthem



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, hopefully people like bratty!gryles because that's literally all this is whoops, this is a lot of schmoop sorry, when I posted this on tumblr like four months ago I accidentally tagged Nick lawl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayclubanthem/pseuds/gayclubanthem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be careful what you wish for.  </p><p>Or the one where Nick is a bit rude and Harry spends 1,000 words making things complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this ages ago and posted it on tumblr but now I've decided to start writing again and naturally that means posting things on ao3. Please be nice half of this was forced and I was horrifically out of practice.

"For God’s sake, Harold! Blow them out!"

Nick Grimshaw, rather loudly, huffs out a haughty puff of air, hands curling around his narrow hips. Harry sends him a dirty look and briefly wonders why he even invited Nick at all. He wanted a small birthday party. Just his mum and Gemma and the lads… but then he remembers just how little time he gets to spend with Nick. Harry turns back to his slightly ostentatious birthday cake (Louis had insisted) and tries to think of a decent wish. Nick pokes Harry in the side.

"Don’t rush me," Harry grumbles. He steals another glance around him, at the faces of his best friends, and his sister, and then his mother. And then there’s Nick, a fond smirk etched into his features. Finally, Harry takes in a deep breath and purses his lips, blowing out the 20 candles before him. His family cheers, and Niall is quick to ask where the cake knife is while Liam and Zayn offer to serve the ice cream. Nick leans into Harry. His fingers graze the back of his neck, playing with the loose curls there.

"Congratulations, my favorite pop star. By this time next year, I can take you to all the American clubs and get you drunk. Maybe have my wicked way with you," Nick chuckles into his ear. Harry holds back a shudder. He’s about ninety percent sure Nick is doing that on purpose. With a frown, he shrugs the older man off.

"You don’t have to get me drunk," he murmurs. 

Nick stiffens from over his shoulder. 

"Thought we talked about this," Nick replies. It’s true. They’ve had this discussion many times over the last year. Lips pressed into a thin line, Harry stands and waves a hand at the plate of chocolate cake Niall offers him. 

"You alright, Haz?" he hears Louis call as he brushes out of the kitchen. Harry mumbles some excuse of having to use the toilet, but when he’s past the living room, he turns towards his old bedroom instead. Since he’s moved out, his mum has painted the walls and added a desk and bookcase in place of his bed and wardrobe. Still, Harry finds the familiar architecture comforting.  
It’s not that Harry doesn’t understand. Of course he does. Nick had made it crystal clear that getting involved, in any way, would be a mistake.

Then he proceeded to list the reasons why. 

There was no arguing that he had right to turn Harry down. That didn’t stop him from wishing things were different. Maybe if Harry were older, or significantly less busy being an international superstar. Something.

Harry wipes his shaking hands on his jeans and sits in the middle of the floor, hair falling in his face. Maybe he’s overreacting, but he’ll fine in a few moments. He always is. He just needs to breath.

After what seems like five minutes, there’s a soft knock at the door. Harry assumes it’s probably Liam or Zayn, but when he gets up to open the door, he comes face to face with Nick. 

"Sorry, just needed a minute," Harry says, fingers playing with the ends of his sleeves. Nick’s eyebrows furrow together and he looks all concerned and Harry feels a bit foolish for running away from his own birthday celebration. Before Nick can reply, Harry pushes past him into the hallway where he can hear the boys arguing with Gemma over something or another.

"Harry," Nick starts, raising his hand but pausing before he can actually touch him. 

"Grimmy," he responds, and really, he’s got no idea what to say and Nick’s face is falling and suddenly Harry’s worried that he’s become the heart breaker. Before Harry knows what’s happening, Nick is pulling him close. Harry crumples in Nick’s arms, face burrowing into the soft knit of his sweater and hands clutching around his waist.

"I’m sorry," Nick tries, and it only makes Harry’s fists tighten.

"I know."

They stand there for a long time. No one comes looking and somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry feels bad for being so dramatic at his own birthday party. Nick keeps his palms flat over Harry’s shoulder blades as they pull away. Though he hasn’t cried, Harry’s sure his eyes are glossy and red, the way they always are when he’s trying to get a hold of himself. Judging by the tiny crease that forms on Nick’s forehead, he’s right.

"Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry, and I’m an ugly crier," Nick demands. Harry manages a breathy chuckle.

"I won’t."

Harry tries very hard not to look up at Nick, but he falters when suddenly Nick’s grip changes and their faces are closer together than he remembers. Nick’s eyes are shining and he looks so terribly fond and Harry isn’t entirely convinced he’s not actually suffocating. 

"On my tenth birthday, I wished I would become a pop star," he blurts for really no reason at all. The corners of Nick’s mouth twitch.

"You’ve got to be careful what you wish for, Harold," Nick teases. Harry’s heart crashes in his chest. He’s definitely suffocating. Or going into cardiac arrest.

"It came true."

"Yes, that’s a very careful observation."

Harry’s whole body is thrumming, trembling. To be honest, he’s not even sure what he’s saying.

"I wish you’d just kiss me."

And, oh, there it is. The statement catches up to him about the same time it hits Nick.

"Like… today. That’s what I wished for. Shit. Uh…" Harry just barely manages to keep himself from panicking. Still in his arms, Nick is frozen. "Grimmy, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to say that. Please don’t make this awkward."

"You aren’t supposed to say what you wish for," Nick finally replies. "Then it won’t come true."

"I know," Harry says, and he’s not sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

Then, Nick swoops down and cups Harry’s jaw in his hand. He brings their lips together before Harry can take a breath. Despite the screaming in his lungs, Harry melts into the kiss, pressing in close until their bodies are flush together. 

Eventually, Nick pulls away, but his lips still grace Harry’s in a way that send shivers down his spine and forces a small whine from his throat.

"I said careful," Nick says, voice low. Harry leans in for another soft kiss.

“‘s not really my style.”

"I’ve noticed."


End file.
